


Pigtails

by lets_talk_appella



Series: PP3 Doesn't Exist Here [10]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Slurs, This is a 180 from the fluff of the last installment in the series, a more serious theme for this one, homophobic farmer's markets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_talk_appella/pseuds/lets_talk_appella
Summary: "Her stomach fills with hot dread. They’re in a rural town in a state known for anti-LGBT attitudes. And they’re obviously together. Of course. She’d been stupid; at home in New York, it’s so easy to forget. At home, they can touch each other, can hold hands, can kiss in public. At home, they can be together.But not here."Based off Tumblr prompt- "Come over here and make me." A more serious addition to the "PP3 Doesn't Exist Here" series. Tagged for homophobic comments.





	Pigtails

Looking around at the multitude of fruit, vegetable, and homemade goods vendors lined up along the aisle, in which flows a sea of strangers, Beca has never been so on edge in her life.

Louisiana is hotter than she’d expected it to be in March, and the outdoor market they’re at seems more crowded than it should be for such a small town.

“Where the hell are we?” Beca mutters to Chloe, tugging on her hand to pull her closer. Even after almost a year of dating, the feeling of Chloe’s hand in hers still makes Beca’s body hum.

“Um, some town that starts with a T,” Chloe replies absently, her attention more focused on the beautiful scarves laid out for display on a table next to the walkway. “Or maybe an F. Or L. I don’t know, ask Amy.”

Beca huffs and cranes her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Amy, or any of the others, to ask exactly why they’d detoured to an outdoor market in the middle of a park during what was supposed to be a beach vacation. The whole thing had been Aubrey’s idea, actually, that they all take off work for a long weekend and get together for some Bella bonding time; by some miracle, they’d all managed it, even Emily, who was on Spring Break.

She finally spots Amy and Aubrey talking to an elderly man selling apples, while Flo and Stacie carefully examine glass sculptures a few stalls beyond them. Lilly has already disappeared into the crowd, probably in search of a weapons vendor of some sort. The rest of the Bellas had decided to continue driving to their hotel rather than stopping. Beca finds herself wishing she’d chosen to ride in their car rather than in the van dictated by Amy.

Beca huffs again and looks forward in time to narrowly avoid being plowed over by a tall man carrying a crate of broccoli. He turns, probably about to apologize for almost killing her, only for the words to get caught in his throat as he does a double-take. His eyes flick down, and Beca instinctively follows his gaze to where her fingers are interlaced with Chloe’s.

She looks up again and the man’s already turning away, never having apologized. Beca frowns, unsure what had happened there. Before she can say anything to Chloe, though, she’s being dragged off in another direction.

“Bec, look at the honey!” Chloe squeals, stopping in front of a table piled high with jars of the stuff.

“Mmm, very nice,” Beca replies, more focused on the way the older woman running the stand glares at them. She’s wearing a heavy frown and a cross around her neck. Her eyes are fixed on their joined hands.

“Uh, Chlo, maybe –”

“How much for a jar?” Chloe asks the woman, who flinches as if stung.

Chloe’s hand twitches in Beca’s, but she doesn’t pull away. Beca glances at her, but she’s just watching the woman expectantly.

The honey seller stares at Chloe for perhaps a second too long before replying. “Just… one jar, or two?” she asks in a tight voice that seems to carry a heavier meaning than the sentence should.

“Just one,” Chloe chirps, moving even closer to Beca and momentarily dropping her hand to loop both arms around her waist. “We’ll share.”

The woman’s eyes slam shut, then flutter open a second later. “It’s raw honey, so… $7.99.” She speaks slowly, as if every word pains her. Her fingers play with the cross at her throat.

Understanding barrels into Beca’s mind like a freight train. She lets her own eyes slide closed briefly.

Her stomach fills with hot dread. They’re in a rural town in a state known for anti-LGBT attitudes. And they’re obviously together. Of course. She’d been stupid; at home in New York, it’s so easy to forget. At home, they can touch each other, can hold hands, can kiss in public. At home, they can be _together_.

But not here.

Beca fidgets in Chloe’s embrace, unsure how to convey that they have to be more careful – that while they’re there, they can only be “just friends,” but Chloe only holds her tighter. For the first time ever, Chloe’s arms around her feel constrictive.

On a whim, Beca glances at the sign taped to the front of the vendor table to check whether the listed price is the same as the price the woman had said. It is.

“Oh, okay,” Chloe says brightly, apparently oblivious to the woman’s demeanor. She does have to reclaim her arms from around Beca to dig for her money in her purse, and Beca takes the opportunity to shift away from her girlfriend, every inch between them an unsurpassable wall.

Chloe pays the woman – who is careful not to let their hands touch – and selects a jar of honey with a smile that the vendor doesn’t return. Before Beca can resist or pull away, Chloe’s hand finds hers again and they’re off deeper into the market.

As they walk, the back of Beca’s neck prickles with the stares – real or imagined, she isn’t sure – of the people around them. Her head swivels, on the lookout for any sign of hostility. Most people around them, either going in the opposite direction or just in their general vicinity, don’t spare them any attention. But the more Beca looks, the more she sees: a husband and wife stare openly at them as they walk past, headed back toward the honey vendor; a man selling carrots and peppers scowls at their joined hands; three women waiting in line for a sample of homemade jam watch them, eyebrows raised, and start whispering amongst themselves as Beca and Chloe pass.

The intense scrutiny makes Beca’s stomach roll. The edges of her vision turn fuzzy, and a weight settles on her chest, filling her lungs. She’s pretty sure the hand holding Chloe’s has started sweating.

She loosens her grip on Chloe’s hand. “Chloe, maybe we shouldn’t –”

Someone bumps into her, ramming into her shoulder with enough force to knock her off balance until Chloe steadies her. She looks around wildly, but whoever did it is already gone, swallowed by the crowd at the market. There’s no way it was an accident, not when it had been that forceful.

 “Keep up, I don’t want to lose you in the crowd,” Chloe calls back to her, her hand only tightening on Beca’s. 

Setting her jaw, Beca holds tight to Chloe; she has a wild desire to protect Chloe from this, to keep Chloe unaware of the simmering anger directed at their conjoined hands. Chloe doesn’t need to know; it would only make her sad. They just need to find the others and get out.

Beca looks around, but Amy, Aubrey, Lilly, Stacie, and Flo are nowhere to be seen. Beca hopes that Aubrey and Stacie have the sense to avoid touching too much.

Maybe holding hands isn’t enough to give them away. Maybe people just assume they’re only friends trying to stay linked in such a busy area. Maybe Beca’s imagining the stares.

“Can we buy oranges?” Chloe pulls Beca aside abruptly, pointing at a stall overflowing with the delicious-looking fruit. “They’re supposed to be good here I think.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Beca replies, trying to force a smile as she continues to tell herself she’s imagining everything.

“Awes!” Chloe beams at her, leaning in to peck her quickly on the lips before Beca can stop her.

It’s a quick kiss, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kiss, but it still sends a bolt of white-hot panic firing down Beca’s spine.

Ordinarily, kissing Chloe is bliss. This kiss feels like a death sentence.

Beca’s eyes fly wide and she chokes out, “We can’t –”

Before she can get another word out, Chloe’s turning and leading her (by the hand again) toward the oranges. As they walk, Beca locks eyes with an elderly woman headed in the opposite direction; she’s glaring with open hostility, brow furrowed and lip curled, and Beca instantly knows she’d seen the kiss. Beside her walks a little girl with her hair in brown pigtails, no older than three or four, the woman’s granddaughter maybe. She’s also staring, her mouth agape, but her eyes are focused on Chloe.

As Beca watches, the woman and child draw closer and closer, until they’re about to bypass each other; the little girl’s arm flies out to catch at Chloe’s leg. Chloe stops instantly, looking down at the little girl in confusion. Beca stares directly into the old woman’s angry eyes, wanting desperately to ask what her problem is, but something large seems to have lodged itself in her throat.

“S’cuse me,” the little girl says in a small voice.

“Yes?” Chloe asks, dropping Beca’s hand and kneeling to match the girl’s height.

Beca holds her breath, _knowing_ the girl is going to ask about them, that she’s going to comment on their kiss and call them gross or weird or wrong or any of the far, far uglier words she knows are currently flying through the old woman’s mind, and –

The little girl reaches out a tentative hand. “Can I touch your hair?”

Chloe’s startled laugh breaks the staring contest between Beca and the girl’s grandmother, and both look down.

“Yeah, you can touch my hair if it’s okay with…?” Chloe looks up to the old woman questioningly, faltering at the open hostility still on the woman’s face. Then little girl looks up, and the woman’s face shifts to a more neutral mask. She nods once, stiffly.

The girl’s smile turns huge and she reaches a small hand forward to gently brush through the ends of Chloe’s red curls. “It’s so pretty,” she says happily, reclaiming her hand after a moment.

“Thank you,” Chloe smiles. “Your hair is pretty, too,” she says, gesturing to the girl’s brown pigtails. It makes the girl grin shyly, hiding behind a hand.

As Chloe rises from her kneel, Beca again makes eye contact with the elderly woman. The hostility is back, unmistakable in the set of her jaw and the deep furrow between her brows. Absurdly, Beca almost wants to laugh at her; then, she realizes what kind of influence the little girl will grow up with if the old woman truly is her grandmother, and her amusement is replaced with heavy fatigue.

Chloe waves goodbye to the little girl, Beca glares at the old woman, and they continue on their way. As Chloe reunites their hands and they reach the table with oranges, Beca searches for the other Bellas. She finally spots them while Chloe talks with the orange vendor; they’re almost halfway down the market from them, Stacie and Aubrey looking over an arrangement of handcrafted soaps while the others wait for them (Lilly is still missing). Beca’s relieved to see Stacie and Aubrey still standing without touching and that no one seems to be paying them any extra attention, beyond the occasional wandering male eye.

“What are you looking at?” Chloe asks, her voice suddenly closer than Beca had expected. Beca glances over to see Chloe clutching a small bag of oranges in the same hand already holding the jar of honey.

“Just the Bellas,” Beca replies. “Think we should wait for them, then head out? You know, before you buy the entire market,” she manages to tease, trying to hide her own discomfort and keep Chloe oblivious of the surrounding hostility aimed at them.

Even as she speaks, another middle-aged couple walking by glares at them. Beca feels her face warm and turns, pretending to look over at the Bellas again.

“Oh, sure,” Chloe agrees easily, regaining Beca’s attention. “Let’s look at… postcards?” She points to a spinning rack of the souvenirs standing just a few stalls down, located in a cramped-looking vendor tent for cheap trinkets and other gifts. In order to get to the postcards, they’ll have to move behind the seller’s table.

Beca nods and follows her, weaving around people and ducking behind the selling table to finally squeeze into the little space around the postcards. It’s even smaller than it had looked from the main area, with cheap tables for key rings and other Louisiana-themed trinkets set up on either side of the revolving postcard rack. The position of the rack means the vendor – a middle-aged man – sits between them and the main walkway of the market.

Beca catches his eye and swallows hard at the frown on his face. From where he’s sitting, he easily could have seen them kiss, and Chloe’s hand is still firmly wrapped around hers. She shifts her weight uncomfortably as Chloe sets honey and oranges down on the ground, freeing a hand to browse through the postcards.

The man twists his upper body in his seat to stare at them with blatant aggression. Beca pivots her own body so her back is to him, rather than the side of her face, but she can still feel the heat of his gaze searing into the back of her head.

_It’s unfair,_ she thinks tiredly. _It’s so unfair._

Her eyes start to prickle and burn with frustrated tears, and Beca blinks rapidly before Chloe can see any sign of them. She can’t let anything break the bubble Chloe’s created for herself. Beca takes a deep breath through her nose as Chloe rotates the postcard rack.

Beca takes a moment to be grateful for that innocent obliviousness, and the sight of Chloe acting so calm and normal makes the unpleasant heat in her eyes recede.

“Hey, dykes,” a rasping, gravely male suddenly voice rings out from behind them. Beca knows instantly it’s the vendor. Her heart clenches.

Chloe doesn’t react. So, Beca doesn’t either.

“I’m talking to you. Do you hear me? How dare you go out in front of children?” the man sneers. “Showing them your ways. Infecting them.”

At that, a muscle in Chloe’s cheek stands out, and Beca knows she’s clenching her jaw. Beca looks around, purposely avoiding making eye contact with the angry face staring at her, searching for the Bellas. She spots them still shopping only a few stalls down, near the orange vendor, but they don’t see her and Chloe.

The man rises from his chair to stand purposely between them and the only exit; the surrounding tables block them from movement.

Chloe’s hand trembles as she replaces the postcard she’d been looking at.

“How dare you flaunt your sin like that,” the man continues, careful to keep his volume at a level only they can hear. “You disgusting _whores_.”

Beca hears herself make a weird gasping noise. She’s never been called a whore before.

Chloe’s hand shifts in her own. With a pang, Beca realizes she’s trying to pull away to put some space between them. Instead of letting go, Beca only tightens her grip on Chloe’s hand, holding her in place.

Instantly, Chloe’s eyes – wide and frightened – snap up to meet Beca’s. Cheek muscles straining with the effort, Beca forces her face into what is hopefully a reassuring smile as she runs her thumb over the back of Chloe’s hand. The action seems to soothe Chole marginally, her expression relaxing and eyes softening around the edges.

In that moment, Beca wants nothing more than to wrap Chloe in her arms and protect her from this man and from the outside world, but she knows that any further sign of affection will only make it worse for them.

“Hey, fire-crotch, come here,” the raspy voice drawls.

The instant the slur leaves the man’s mouth, Beca twists so she’s standing between Chloe and the vendor, facing him. Their hands are still linked, Beca’s right in Chloe’s left, so the action pulls Chloe close against her back.

A quiet “Bec, don’t,” is breathed into her ear, but Beca doesn’t budge, even when Chloe tries to drag her aside. Her eyes dart around, first from the man to the passing crowd; a few people seem to have heard, or at least understand that something is going on, and have stopped to watch. Over their heads, Beca finally makes eye contact with Aubrey, who’s looking over at them with a frown. Her eyes flick to the man, then back to where Beca stands protectively in front of Chloe. Her eyebrows lift and she whirls to Stacie.

Relief floods Beca’s veins at the silent communication, but the man still has them trapped in the corner.

“I’ll persuade you to like men,” he continues addressing Chloe, lips drawn into a perverted smile and hand gesturing obscenely at his crotch. “You just haven’t had one good enough.” Chloe stiffens against Beca’s back. “You’ll like it. I can make you scream more than that little dyke ever does. Ginger, I’ll fu –”

“SHUT UP!” Beca roars, finding her voice. Several more people stop to stare. Beyond them, Aubrey, Stacie, Amy, and Flo push through the crowd, trying to get to them. “Just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.”

The man straightens his posture and blinks at Beca in surprise. He recovers, though, and with a greasy smile, takes a step forward. “Well, well… come over here and make me.”

Fury courses through Beca. Her vision blurs and she takes a step forward at the same time Aubrey and Amy break free of the crowd and move toward the man with fire in their eyes, Amy (for some reason) shouting, “I eat Krauts like you for lunch!”

Before any of them can touch the man, though, Lilly – out of nowhere – launches herself out from under one of the tables of cheap souvenirs in the tent and tackles him around the knees. He goes down with a loud yell, but Beca’s moving before she can see what happens next. She drags Chloe by the hand out of the stall, past where the man and Lilly are struggling on the ground, and back into the main aisle of the market.

“Go!” Aubrey yells at them, her eyes on the fight.

“We got this,” Flo assures, and Stacie and Amy nod.

Beca spins around, looking for an exit. For a wild second, she thinks they’re going to have to shove their way out of the throng of people staring at them. But then, a man looking to be in his twenties moves aside to give them room.

“Get out of here,” he says, not unkindly. “And… sorry.”

_Then why didn’t you help?_ Beca wants to snap back at him, but then Chloe’s urging her forward and they’re half-jogging through the mass of people and breaking away from the market. Footsteps follow and Beca glances over her shoulder, ready to punch someone, but it’s just Stacie making sure that no one threatening comes after them.

They move quickly through the park surrounding the market, seemingly without any destination in mind apart from _away_. As they flee, Chloe leading, all Beca can see is the man’s twisted, hateful face. His disgusting words fill her ears on a loop and she wants nothing more than to go back and join the fight, to cause him as much pain as he’s caused her and Chloe.

Beca doesn’t realize she’s crying until Chloe drags her to a stop beside a park bench far away from the market, wiping at her face with shaking hands.

“Bec, breathe, you need to calm down –”

“Didn’t you hear what he said to you?” Beca half-shouts as she shakes off Chloe’s hands, all her fear and anger from the past hour boiling over and bursting out in a wild torrent.

Stacie’s still following them, but she stops running well before she reaches the bench to give them room. She turns, presumably looking for Aubrey and the others so she can wave them down.

Chloe nods, her eyes wide and hands still shaking, half raised as if yearning to reach out to Beca. “Yes, I did hear it, and it was – it’s horrible, I hated every second – but Bec, you can’t freak out at –”

“Chloe, he –” Beca has to cut herself off and turn away for a second, both hands running through her hair. She takes a quick breath in an attempt to quiet her voice before continuing. “Those – fucking – those people would rip us apart for being happy. Did you see that? Did you see any of that fucking bullshit? They hate us, just because we’re happy with each other and we happen to be two girls!”

By the end of the sentence, she’s yelling again, her hands gesturing wildly through the air. In the distance, she can see Amy, Lilly, Flo, and Aubrey exiting the market; Stacie waves at them to get their attention.

“God, Chloe!” Beca keeps going, anger rolling off of her in waves. “It’s so fucking unfair that we can’t – that I can’t hold your hand in public without feeling like someone’s going to attack us or something! I hate that we can’t be ourselves here!”

“I know, Beca! I _know_!” Chloe cries back, tears forming in her own eyes. “It’s horrible! But _please_ don’t yell.”

“Don’t yell?” Beca shouts, her voice cracking. “Don’t _yell?!_ Do you realize if we’d wanted to – Chloe, until a few years ago, we wouldn’t have been able to get married! Do you know how fucked up that is? We shouldn’t have to hide what we have to be safe from those assholes!”

Aubrey, Amy, Lilly, and Flo have reached Stacie, and the five of them pace nervously, faces turning between where Beca and Chloe stand and the market.

“ _Yes_ , Beca, I do know! It’s completely fucked up!” Chloe’s chin wobbles dangerously as a few tears fall from her eyes. The sight makes Beca’s own eyes sting again and she wipes at them angrily.

“Of course I know! I saw it!” Chloe continues, her own voice rising in volume with every word. “Do you think I didn’t notice the honey seller close her eyes? Or that person bump into you? Or all the staring? Or how that – that old _crone_ was ready to personally slit our throats for that little kiss? Did you really think I didn’t see any of that?”

“I –”

“Yes, Beca,” Chloe plowed on, “we shouldn’t have to hide, and it’s not fair – but please just listen to me for a second. Okay?” The volume of her voice dropped to a low, soothing tone and she took a step forward, back into Beca’s personal space.

“Please?” Chloe whispers, slowly bringing her hands up to again wipe at the few residual tears Beca can feel on her face. “Breathe, baby, just breathe for a second.”

Beca takes a deep, shaking breath. Chloe’s stopped crying, but her cheeks are still flushed with emotion. The careful, tender expression on her face makes something settle in Beca’s chest, calming her. She feels a little ashamed for losing control, but the way Chloe looks at her now tells her that it’s okay.

She nods after a moment, wanting Chloe to continue.

“Okay,” Chloe breathes. Her hands fall from Beca’s face to slide down her arms until she links their fingertips. “I know we shouldn’t have to hide, and I know it’s not fair,” she says quietly, so only Beca can hear. “But listen to me. We’re lucky to even have what we have, Bec. There are… in some countries, being like us is illegal. Not even marriage, just… being.”

A fresh wave of sadness crashes over Beca, but before it can drag her down, Chloe keeps going.

“Listen to me, okay? There’s nothing we can do to change other people, and I – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But we need to focus on the good. In New York, nobody cares. We can be _us_ at home. And the Bellas…”  Chloe lets out a huff that might be a laugh as she glances toward the others, still waiting quietly. “The Bellas are so happy for us. Bec, most people don’t care or they support us. Like – that little girl. Do you remember that little girl?”

Beca nods and feels her lips lift into a small smile, already knowing where Chloe’s going with this.

“That little girl,” Chloe says, “saw me kiss you and – and all she cared about was the color of my hair. Bec, focus on her. Focus on the guy that let us leave. Focus on everyone who walked by without a second look at us. Focus on the _good_.”

“Yeah,” Beca sighs, her voice a little hoarse. She closes her eyes to see the shy smile of the little girl.

“Yeah,” Chloe repeats. “It’s getting better. Every day, it’s getting better. Focus on that.”

Beca draws a lungful of air through her nose, the last of her anger and anxiety draining away. After a moment, she reopens her eyes to see Chloe smiling tentatively at her. It’s her favorite sight in the entire world, and in that second, it’s the only thing that matters.

“Okay?” Chloe asks quietly, her eyes flicking between Beca’s. “There are some people waiting for us.”

“I’m okay,” Beca replies, then leans in to press her lips briefly against Chloe’s. Maybe it’s a stupid thing to do, but she needs to kiss Chloe right then.

She turns, a little unwilling at first to meet the others’ eyes, but there’s no avoiding the sympathy in Amy’s and Flo’s expressions and the understanding in Aubrey’s and Stacie’s. Lilly, Beca is pleased to see, looks as stoic as ever and doesn’t have a single scratch on her.

“That was a sweet tackle, Lilly,” Beca says with a grin. “Thanks for that.”

Lilly shrugs. “Satan has taught me many things,” she whispers.

“Yeah, sorry about not – we should have been there,” Amy says uncomfortably. “We heard you yell, but…”

“We should have dragged that man behind a car,” Flo insists.

“Well,” Chloe replies, standing beside Beca and smoothing a hand across her lower back, “that’s a good idea, but probably would have gotten us arrested.”

“Speaking of,” Aubrey adds, glancing around nervously, “we probably should go. I think someone did call the cops.”

Beca winces. “Yeah, are you guys okay?”

Amy snorts. “It was all Lilly. She hit him – well, that guy won’t be able to have kids anytime soon.”

“He was lucky we were there to drag her off of him, actually,” Stacie says with a slightly fearful glance at Lilly, who smiles serenely.

“Oh, here’s these,” Flo steps forward suddenly, pulling the honey and oranges Chloe had left at the market out of her bag.

“Thanks,” Chloe takes them, then looks at Beca. “Ready to get out of here? The others are probably at the hotel by now.”

Beca nods, the tension in her chest finally lifting. “So ready.”

Chloe reaches to hold Beca’s hand again, and Stacie reaches for Aubrey, and together they make their way back to Amy’s van, heads held high.


End file.
